Catch Me If You Can
by witch-mistress-animaru
Summary: SS. To strengthen his business empire, Syaoran must marry Sakura, his associate's rebel journalist daughter. However, there is that *slight* problem of his aversion to journalists, topped with her hiding skills, resulting to a cat-and-mouse game in Tokyo.
1. Full Summary

Catch Me If You Can

Witch-mistress-animaru

A/N: It's been awhile, folks. And right now I'd like to start a new story. The other stories, I think, will get updated in the next two weeks of sheer heaven. It's that blissful part of the year called SEMBREAK, and even though I have some school stuff hanging in my thoughts, I try to forget that I may get a 5.0 or so in my MP class, and that I sucked in my BC class's final exam. I mean, c'mon, 100 items, 320 choices? You've got to be kidding me. But I don't care. I just don't. Hell, I'm blabbing. Now here we go. A new story — romance, humor and a little dramatic angst, I think.

FULL SUMMARY:

Syaoran, next-in-line CEO of the Li Corp, has long resigned himself to the fact that he'll end up married to a business associate's daughter. It was only a question of whose daughter it'll be and when he'll marry the lucky girl (conceited, isn't it?). However, he was totally unprepared for the fact that the girl his mom chose for him was a runaway rebel daughter, who chose to have the menial job of being a bloody tabloid journalist (READ: it means paparazzi to him all the same). Just thinking about her occupation makes his blood boil. Those damned bloodhounds are always scouring for scandals all over Tokyo. And, the thing is, he can't marry the girl if she doesn't show herself anytime soon, right? And from what he's heard, the girl's been on the run for almost a year. Now, he can't have that. He can't have such a feisty journalist for a wife! If she thinks she can run away forever, she's got another thing going. Oh, she's so going to get it. And so Syaoran swears to stamp out the fighting spirit out of his wife-to-be. When he catches up with her, that is.

Sakura is proud to say that she is living in a rundown flat and that she earns an average of a few thousand yens a month, that is to say, enough. Not much, she thinks, but it's only a matter of time and she'll get the only break she'll need to rise to the top: get a picture of the elusive bachelor Li Syaoran for her editor. The man has graced the pages of their newspaper of late, an article about some scandal about bedding a girl (Not that she cared) every now and then. That'd do the trick, she thinks. Besides, she's earning well enough to cover her needs. It's not like she's starving. She also happens to love what she does, and that's compensation well enough. And she'd like to point out that she'd rather do this, instead of being the puppet, being the modest, graceful, shy daughter of a business tycoon. She's had enough of that stupidity. She's earning her keep, and it's keeping her satisfied for almost a year now. And though the development is somewhat slow, she's willing to wait it out. Her father and equally tyrannical brother can't find her, can they? But, oh, breaking news, everyone: what the hell is her father and brother doing walking out of the Li Corp building with her subject? And are they coming her way? No way, folks, and your journalist reporter-to-be is suddenly off and running away from her worst nightmare.

Will they catch her? And if they did, what will they do to squash her spirit, if they ever can? Or will she get away? And when will she learn that she's much more connected to Li Syaoran than in the way she thinks they are (purely business)? And where the hell does romance enter the picture?

A/N: This has a chapter 1 ready. Tell me what you think, while I reconsider which story to update first. Oh, it's good to be back. So good.


	2. Chapter 1: Unpleasant Surprises

Catch Me If You Can

Witch-mistress-animaru

A/N: Here's the first chapter of this fic, earlier than expected. I decided to write this before I lose the will to write altogether.

Commercial: For my Filipino readers, I have recently uploaded a new fic under a new fandom, Full Metal Panic. _Alam kong may ilan din naman sigurong nakapanood noon sa TV. _Experimental, yes, but I just want you to check it out. I'm not even going to ask for reviews — that's one fic I'd write willingly, whether it has an audience or not. I'm just testing the waters if I still have the command of the Filipino language. _ Ako pa lang ata ang nagsubok magsulat ng tagalog sa FMP fandom. Hehe._

Now on with this fic.

1: Unpleasant Surprises

Li Enterprises Building, Hong Kong

There were around a dozen reporters outside the glimmering, bluish building located in the heart of the city. A single Chinese character was engraved at the doorway of the entrance, indicating the surname of the owners of the corporation residing in the building: Li.

Amidst the mob, a woman tried her best to squeeze in to the frontline. She had a camera dangling from her neck and a recorder on one hand. Her reddish-brown hair was windswept, the midday sun making it look more red than brown. Her face was damp with sweat and so were her clothes — a loose shirt, plain royal blue in color and design, paired with blue jeans and sneakers. She didn't look like a reporter at all; rather, she looked like a student. Her face, though smudged with dirt and sweat, could not deny the youthful glow emanating from her. She could feel sweat running on her spine, but she didn't mind it.

_This will be my big break,_ was the only thing on her mind right now. A little discomfort and heat won't distract her.

"Excuse me," she muttered repeatedly as she finally made it to the front. Gripping her camera and holding it steady, she took a snapshot of the threshold of the building. Someone shoved her from behind. She reeled, cursing, but she prepared to take another shot. The first one was surely ruined. After a few shots, she stopped, satisfied. Her co-reporters shoved and cursed behind her, but she hardly noticed. She was waiting for her subject to come out.

Li Syaoran, the young and successful acting CEO of Li Enterprises, was bound to come out any moment now.

She can't help but smirk, her green eyes glinting with malice. It was the moment she waited for, after almost a year of struggling to become a photo journalist. She started out as an all-around in the newspaper tabloid she worked for, preparing snacks and pouring out coffee for everyone else until about a few months ago, she started writing occasionally and covering little events. Now she is certain she'll shoot to the top after this big break.

She was nearly trembling with excitement at the prospect of finally getting a decent, steady, secure job.

Not that she really knew this Li guy. All she knew was that for three weeks now, his name has been dragged into a scandal in newspapers, broadsheet and tabloid alike. She didn't know what the scandal was about, only that the person involved was Li Syaoran, who seemed like an extremely important businessman in Hong Kong, and a daughter of his father's associate.

She didn't really care about the issue. She didn't even care if the man kept a harem, for heaven's sake. All she cared enough was the fact that her editor-in-chief had been ranting about him and getting an exclusive photo of him in their paper. His obsession was such that he gave a price high enough for her, Kinomoto Sakura, to scramble and rush away to this scene. The other writers had assignations, some thought that this was too much of an issue for them, or that it wasn't newsworthy (thus arguing with their EIC) and she decided that everything was up to her.

Well, this isn't exclusive (she didn't think the man would take kindly to being stalked by paparazzi), but at least it'll be a picture of him. Truth be told, if not for the princely sum offered, she won't even be here. The man reminded her unpleasantly of her own family, her own position in Japan, until she screamed enough and ran away.

She shook the unpleasant thoughts from her head and turned her attention back to the building's entrance. Still no sign of the elusive guy. She sighed. This wasn't as easy as she thought. She glanced at her watch every five seconds or so, rather impulsively. It was quarter to twelve, almost lunchtime. The deadline draws nearer with every tick of the watch.

_I'm dead if I'm not at the luncheon general meeting!_

Her hands itched to take the camera and snap away. Yet she had to wait. Pictures of the building are worth nothing, nothing compared to the real deal — that is, Li Syaoran himself emerging from the office.

Finally, three figures emerged from the stairs. Sakura looked up, excited. So was everyone else. There was an imminent hush as everyone scrambled and craned their necks to get a better look. Sakura's smile, though, vanished quicker than it came as the three figures approached. Her eyes widened in recognition as she met the surprised stare of one of the three.

There was no time to lose. Without even thinking, she backed away from the scene. She squeezed into the mob quicker than she squeezed in to get to the front, just as the three men approached the door with business delegates behind them.

_Shit! Talk about damn, rotten luck! That scoop will have to wait!_

She immediately ran to the rowdy crowd of passersby, hoping to lose their trail as she blended with them, her hands shielding her hair and face from view.

"Sakura!" She heard her brother, Kinomoto Touya, call out from what seemed to be a dead near distance. She quickened her pace.

_If he saw me...if they catch me..._

To hell with it! She needed to get going. Or everything will be in vain...

---

Li Syaoran knew, even before he descended from the stairs, what was waiting for him as usual: bloodhound reporters were waiting outside the building. He wasn't even surprised that the company's security agents were unable to hold them off. A split second after emerging from the building, he was ambushed by recorders shoved to his face. Cameras flashed everywhere. Noise broke as a flood of questions were thrown at him.

"Mr. Li, is it true that you spent a night with Chinese actress Ming Leah in a hotel?"

"Mr. Li, is it true that you even brought her home afterwards?"

"How did your associate Ming Zhen react, seeing as he's Miss Leah's father?"

"Will you be marrying Ming Leah, by any chance?"

"What about your rumored engagement, sir? Is Ming Leah the —?"

He shielded his eyes to avoid the blinding flash from the cameras and shoved the reporters in front of him.

His bodyguards moved quickly from the entrance and were at once in front, shoving the reporters who huffed indignantly at the brusque gesture.

Then, to his surprise, his associate exclaimed, "Sakura!"

He turned to Kinomoto Touya, who was already sprinting ahead to follow a red-haired woman who quickly vanished in a throng of passersby.

Touya's father, Kinomoto Fujitaka, frowned at his son's actions.

"She's here?"

Syaoran saw the woman emerge from the mob's other end. She hailed a taxi. The cab dashed away before Touya can even see her.

Touya came back with an irritated frown on his face.

"Damn!" He swore. "She's fast!"

"Was it her, Touya?" Fujitaka asked his son as he returned.

"There's no question about it." The son answered grimly.

Fujitaka looked angry as he gazed at the reporters, all of whom were oblivious of the incident. "Is this the life she chose for herself? Stooping to being a bloody paparazzo? She could have had so much more."

"I agree," Touya sighed as a black limousine glided in front of them and he entered last.

Curious, Syaoran turned to his associates. Their other associates had service cars of their own. "Was it your sister, Touya-san?" He asked, frowning.

"Yes," Touya answered grimly. "The impudent brat. She caused us nothing but trouble even before she ran away."

"We are sure to find her now, Xiao Lang," Fujitaka assured him. "Now that we know where to start. And when we find her, that's when we talk about the arrangements."

Syaoran frowned thoughtfully. He knows about the arrangement procured by his mother. What struck him was the fact that his bride-to-be was far from the meek little mouse he imagined.

Worst, she was a journalist.

"She may be stubborn, but her heart is in the right place," Touya's voice cut his trail of thought. "We love her but she just doesn't realize how much."

"She's childish at times, you know — she's been spoiled all her life." Fujitaka sighed. "But she just has to learn that even my patience is at its end."

Syaoran said nothing.

"She's going to do as we wished. You need a wife, your mother said. She'll be perfect for you." _Perfect? My ass,_ he wanted to answer. How can a stubborn journalist be perfect for him? Still, he said nothing.

"However, we expect you to try and work the marriage out. No infidelities. If you break her heart, I'll break your bones," Touya threatened in a low voice. Syaoran knew it was no joke, no matter how lightly it was uttered.

He was speechless, dumbfounded, to say the least. He fought the sudden urge to laugh, for that would have been rude, as both men were serious and intent on making the message clear.

_One moment they were ranting about her stubbornness, and suddenly they're protecting her the next moment._

He long resigned to the fact that he will be marrying an associate's daughter. Ming Leah was nothing but a diversion. Her father wasn't important enough for her to be contemplated as a worthy candidate for marriage to him.

The idea wasn't unusual. In fact, he didn't make a big deal out of it. It was ordinary in the business world. For the meantime, he's enjoying being a bachelor.

He had half a mind on the conversation of father and son. Obviously they missed the girl, he thought amusedly.

However, the girl's occupation worried him more than anything else. He felt apprehensive after learning his fiancée's occupation. The thought that she was among those bloodhound reporters he so detested brought a grim resignation to his guts.

If her family was unable to subdue her, he most certainly would.

First, he had to find her...then he'll think of what to do next. He gazed at her father and shook his head. They don't need to know.

---

It was way past twelve and she should be reporting at work anytime soon, but she had no intention of going. She was pacing to and fro on her tiny apartment, feeling agitated.

She had to do something about this. Nowhere in Hong Kong was safe anymore.

She had to escape. She had to leave as soon as possible.

But where would she go? She knew nowhere else to go to except Japan.

She just has to risk it. She can't go to the west...to Europe perhaps? But no, her father will find her there, as well in America. She just has to chance out the fact that he won't expect her to come back to Japan.

Or else.

TBC

A/N: Still conceiving how next chapter will go.


	3. Chapter 2: The Beginning

Catch Me If You Can

Witch-mistress-animaru

A/N: Okay, guys, you really have to stop me from uploading three new fics. I mean, _come on_, I already have around a dozen fics waiting for all my creative juices to smear them on a paper (in my case, the computer monitor will do just fine) so you can read them. People...I am trying my hardest not to think about them, but just now I found myself conceiving three titles. Let it be said I have been reading too many fairy tales of late, and here are the titles: "Weaving Fairy Tales," "Forgotten Fairy Tale," and "Cinderella No More."

Lord, I need to get a move on with my life! This is pathetic...I need to write now.

2: The Beginning

"Nippon Airways, huh?" Li Syaoran's smiled sardonically, his eyes glinting in amusement. "It can't be that easy to trace her...and this early too. It feels like a trap, somehow."

"What do you mean, Xiao Lang?" His man of affairs and best friend Eriol Hiiragizawa asked in an amused voice. "Surely you ought to be glad she's heading somewhere you can easily go to."

"Oh, I don't know. Her father failed to find her for a year and I find her whereabouts in less than an hour? Sounds dodgy to me."

"Well, maybe they didn't look hard enough...or maybe they weren't looking at the right places."

"I guess you're right," he agreed, glancing at his wristwatch. It was only an hour ago since the little scene outside the Li Corp building. The flight Kinomoto Sakura took was in the afternoon.

He had plenty of time to decide what to do with this information.

Forcing her back was not an option. That would only scare the mouse more, he thought.

If he followed her head-on, her compliance is not guaranteed. In fact, she might bolt from him since he knows he is an associate of her father's.

But if he pretended he did not know who she was...or pretend that he is willing to help her out...

...no, she might get suspicious.

Yet if he didn't try... maybe it's best if he just followed her secretly.

Only he might lose her trail. He was certain of that.

"Are you still there, Xiao Lang?" Eriol's voice hinted boredom and annoyance.

"Of course I am... hmm... Can you procure a ticket for me, Eriol?"

"What?"

"A ticket bound to Japan on the same flight she took."

"Oh...oh, this is getting interesting. What are you planning to do? Ship her back to Hong Kong immediately?"

"No...I think I'll try and get a little closer to our prey first. Lull her to a false sense of security with me, like she can trust me not to squeal on her, and when she's taken the bait hook, line and sinker, I'll drop the bombshell on her."

"Wise, wise...but isn't that a bit tedious?"

"No, no, I don't think so. I doubt I'll be bored. Did I fail to mention her occupation?" Syaoran's lips curled at the thought of the woman with a pen and paper in hand, scribbling away nonsensical gossip. The newspaper she worked for wasn't even in the least respectable, he learned, some little-known tabloid with badly-written scandals for headlines.

"Oh, oh, she isn't a journalist, is she?" When he didn't answer, Eriol whistled. "No wonder you're incensed. You've got a handful, I gotta say, bro."

"So, what about that plane ticket?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Consider it bought. Want to get seated next to her? We can pull some strings, you know?"

"Hmm... I guess not. She might grow suspicious. Too suspicious, I daresay if that happens."

"Okay then, whatever you say, man. I expect I have to handle Hong Kong for the meantime?"

"You know how it works."

"And boy, you need her cooperation as soon as possible. These scandals aren't helping the company, are they?"

"You know they aren't."

"Why did you ever sleep with that woman, Xiao Lang?"

"Animal magnetism, I guess," he answered gloomily. The woman wasn't even good enough, he thought, disgusted. "Anyway, I already threatened her with her father's business so she'll stop bothering me. How can a woman of class be such a slut?"

"Whoa, mind your language there, bro." Eriol was laughing at him, he knew. "But that's a rhetorical question, you know. Like why a woman of class will choose to be a journalist instead."

He froze. Yes, he had been wondering about that. Why would a woman who had everything leave everything behind for such a menial job?

The answer beats him, but he isn't even sure if that woman wasn't crazy. She certainly sounded like a loony from what he heard—loony in a sense that her mind works differently.

What made her run away?

"Beats me, Eriol." He answered, yawning. "Now, send that ticket to my office pronto, okay? I'm packing some personal stuff. I have a feeling this will take more time and effort than I imagine."

"No return trip yet, then?"

"No, none yet, I guess. I'll be staying at the mansion in Tokyo."

"Why bother to tell me?"

"So anyone can reach me in case of emergencies. But listen, bro," he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'd rather the Kinomotos be kept in the dark about this."

"Roger that." He could almost see Eriol nodding gravely. "They're a handful as well."

"You said it. Very well, I need to go now. Ja ne, Eriol."

"Ja, bro," and the line clicked dead.

---

_To the left, to the left, everything you own in the box to the left..._

Sakura was inside a cab when her phone rang, Beyonce's voice filling the cab. The number registered as Harold Yee, the Thai-American editor of _Newspeak _(a rip-off from Newsweek), the tabloid she was working for.She groaned aloud as she debated on whether she should answer it or not.

The incessant ringing filled her ears, until the driver turned to her and said, "Would you mind answering that, miss? I'm getting distracted. At least turn it off if you don't want to answer it."

"Sorry," she whispered.

_...You must not know about me, you must not—_

"Hello?" She answered the phone, hoping the gay editor won't rip her head off with his shrill voice.

"Ying Fa," he shrieked, causing her ears to throb. Chan Ying Fa was the name she used in _Newspeak._ "Where the hell are you, girlfriend?" He tended to talk like an American though in all other aspects he looked like an Asian. Harold grew up in the States, she knew. He was the one who taught her all about Beyonce and all those nasty girl-sounding songs she never heard of before.

Harold was her friend and her boss.

"Oh, Harold, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the luncheon meeting."

"Well, I'm glad you have the good sense to apologize, because I'm damn pissed right now."

"Your language, Harry," she said, wincing. She has been working for him a year and still she can't bear the crudeness of his language.

"It's Harriett, dearie, and don't change the subject. Where the hell are you? What happened to that photo essay you promised me of..." she heard him sigh faintly. "...Li Syaoran?" The name came out as a sigh and she realized, suddenly, that Harold's obsession was fueled by some dark desire for the elusive guy.

"Oh, that," she said blankly. "Sorry, _girlfriend_, but I can't give it to you any time soon. Something came up, honey," she went on hurriedly. "And, well... I can't compromise it for those couple of photos."

"What?"

"Can you keep it down, Harriett? I'm going deaf here."

"What can be more important than your assignment?" The boss was back, she knew. "You haul your pretty backside back here or I'll drag you by force. You have a lot to explain."

"I can't, Harold. I failed to mention that I'm taking a breather."

"What did you say?" He enunciated every word, his pitch going up with each syllable. "What do you mean by breather? Is this a joke, cherie? I'm not amused, not amused at all."

"I'm on my way to the airport right now. I'm going out of the country...it's sudden, yes, but I'll try and keep in touch," _a lie,_ she thought. As soon as she arrived in Japan she has to forget about the past year, including the only true friend she ever had.

"Cherry, you're scaring me, honey. You were always the professional sort, even if most people consider our paper a joke..."

"Harold!"

"It's true, you know, I know it. I know they consider us a mere lampoon of _Newsweek_, and our headlines are the butts of jokes, but you...you're different. You work so hard, and...Well, we're also friends, aren't we, Ying Fa? And I could tell something's wrong..."

"Harold..." guilt overrode better sense and she burst to tears.

"Dahling, what's wrong?" He sounded worried. "Tell me about it."

"I... I can't. I can't trust anyone with the truth. Oh, Harriett, you'll hate me for sure. No, I can't betray you anymore than I have to."

"It can't be so bad, hon," Harold sighed. "Okay, I guess I've been harsh with you about that article. Well, Li Syaoran be damned, but I can't lose a friend over him. Tell me, are you crushing on him as well?"

"What? No, of course not...it's different...I really need to do this, Harold."

"Very well. Take that stupid break, honey, but I swear I need you back as soon as you can. Will a week suffice?"

"I...I'm afraid not, friend."

"Okay. A month? I guess not. Six weeks? No? Well, I'm giving you three months tops, honey, and I swear I'll scourge the four corners of the earth trying to find my news editor."

She nearly dropped the phone.

"What did you say, Harold?"

"You deserve the post, sweetie. It doesn't mean you'd stop covering newsworthy events, only that you are now going to proofread and edit everything news, honey."

"I...I don't deserve this, Harold," she sobbed. She cannot confide in him, for she loved her freedom too much.

"Oh, nonsense. Now take care of yourself, and I'll see you on July fifteenth, make no mistake about it."

"Thank you, Harold...I'll... I'll keep in touch," she said sincerely, knowing she can never cast Harold Yee aside, no matter what she did. He was, after all, almost family.

"Hate to break your conversation, missy, but we're here," the driver said grumpily and she smiled apologetically at him.

"I have to go, Harold."

"Take care, dear."

She ended the call, paid the driver (with some argument about the price) and she alighted, her baggage in tow.

The ticket took almost all her savings. She was determined not to use the money she originally had, especially the jewelry she had with her the day she ran away.

She felt they won't forgive her if she sold them out.

An hour later she was seated comfortably in the economy cabin of the plane, closing her eyes.

She didn't like flying much and she will try to sleep out the whole journey.

---

Syaoran was squirming in his seat. How was he supposed to know that the witch boarded an economy class flight? The stares he was getting were making him darned uncomfortable. Despite his casual getup and sunglasses to hide his face, many seemed to recognize him.

God, the urge to switch to business class was overwhelming.

But he was determined to keep Sakura close enough for surveillance.

She was three rows ahead in the opposite row, seated right next to the aisle, so he can see her clearly, though she was unaware of it.

Now, the only problem was how to approach her. He needed subtle methods of machination, so as not to alarm her.

His gaze turned to the stewardess who was handing out drinks and he smirked. The girl was staring quite openly at him even as she approached other passengers, including Sakura.

Grinning to himself, he stood up just as the girl approached Sakura and intentionally bumped the stewardess, causing the drink she was handing out to Sakura's seatmate to overturn and slosh the contents all over her lap.

"Oh, dear," said Miss Stewardess, looking very much flustered. "I'm very sorry, ma'am, I didn't..."

"It's okay," she immediately assured the woman with a stiff smile as she stood up. "I need to change my clothes now, I guess."

"Let me assist you, ma'am."

"No, really, I —" Her eyes widened as she gazed at him. "You!"

It was all the passengers needed. They swarmed towards him, asking him questions he wouldn't dare answering without his publicity advisor with him. In those precious moments, his quarry disappeared to the toilet at the tail-end of the plane.

_Bad move, Li,_ he scolded himself as he made his way back to his seat.

---

Sakura stood frozen, her back against the toilet's door.

Li Syaoran was here! He was an associate of her father's, and though she wasn't sure if he knew anything, it was disturbing to see him here.

Besides, this was economy class, not business class. His presence here was definitely dodgy.

Have they set him after her? Was he her family's bloodhound running after her?

_It was possible,_ she thought, _very possible_.

_Or maybe not,_ a nagging voice said in her brain. _He might be here for a reason quite like yours._

Was he an enemy or an ally? That she had to find out. Surely her reaction surprised him, especially if he did not recognize her?

_Stupid reaction, Sakura_, she shook her head. She had to act fast.

And who knows, she might just make that photo essay as a gift to Harold, after all.

Grinning to herself, she changed her clothes and walked out of the toilet.

And bumped head-on straight to a solid chest.

TBC

A/N: Well, it changes a bit, I guess. Still...I like Harold Yee's character. Reminds me of my own editors and co-writers at our school paper...


	4. Chapter 3: A Matter of Strategy

Catch Me If You Can

Witch-mistress-animaru

A/N: God, I'm still confused.

3: A Matter of Strategy

Sakura flinched as she straightened up, preparing to give the owner of the offending chest a tongue-lashing of a lifetime when she recognized just who he was.

Against her better judgment, Sakura gulped. Of all her damned, stupid luck, the man just had to be Li Syaoran, the very man she tried to avoid.

"Oh, uh…" She silently cursed herself for sounding like a complete klutz. "Sorry," she said, wincing at how much she sounded like a bimbo.

"It's all right, really," was it amusement she was hearing from his voice as she scurried away from him? "In fact, I'm the one who should be sorry." When she turned questioningly at him, Li Syaoran elaborated. "I accidentally bumped to the stewardess carrying your water. Sorry."

"Well, yeah, that's fine…sorry again," she said before she raced towards her seat, castigating herself for being so tongue-tied and idiot-brained.

She couldn't help it—not that she was attracted to that idiot (so okay, Sakura quickly repealed her claim. A successful businessman can never be an idiot—unless he has the devil's luck with him)—or rather that…that…that ruthless man, for she has been staring at his name and face long enough at the _Newspeak _office (all thanks to Harold) that she has grown quite bored of it, so used to it.

The real thing shouldn't really be any different, she thought dryly.

And yes, she was telling the truth. What had her worried the most at that moment is the fact that her family knew her whereabouts, and being connected to them, Li Syaoran may very well know about her circumstances. What if he squealed on her and she found herself back on her father's beck and call?

Now, now, she can't have that, can she?

She turned on her seat and, without trying to be obvious (unlike the other female passengers), she took a newspaper and peeked at the side to get a look on Li Syaoran.

She found him, just returning from the toilet as he settled down on the aisle seat three rows away from her. He had his removed his disguise—it's not as if it did him any good and she can see several women standing up to get a good look. Some even started to approach him, swarming around his seat.

Even the usually-professional stewardesses were eyeing him rather openly and flirtatiously.

_Really,_ she thought exasperatedly, _women are such suckers of the rich and the famous. Even the handsome ones._

Well, at least he'd be too busy to keep an eye on her, if that was his intention. This was too much of a coincidence, she decided. Besides, even if they were on the same flight, don't celebrities usually fly in luxury-classes, if not business classes? Damn, he must even have his own jet for his convenience.

For the meantime, she had to contemplate her chances of escaping her father's eyes once she's back to Japan. Not to mention this big bullying associate of his.

She turned her attention once more to Li Syaoran and was glad to see him squirming uncomfortably in his seat as people lined up for autographs. Then she saw a vicious-looking photographer sporting a camera and it hit her.

Damn. This was one hell of an opportunity she shouldn't miss. Harold will kill her if he learns she was on the same flight as Li Syaoran and missed the scoop because she was afraid he was stalking her.

Harold would accuse her of conceit. And maybe he wouldn't be too off the mark.

Paranoid, that's what she was. He didn't see her, did he? Even if he did, it was only fleeting, so she was safe. Probably.

Still, the nagging thoughts continued, until she decided she will have to do this one last favor for Harold before she disappears on the face of the earth as Chan Ying Fa.

She took the camera from her hand-carry bag along with her handy recorder, strapped it around her neck, and approached her prey.

-0-0-

_She's coming,_ Syaoran thought as, from the corner of his eye, he saw Kinomoto Sakura stand up, camera dangling from her neck. He knew that she was too much of a journalist to miss this opportunity of a scoop. A scoop he can very well give, if that's the price to pay to get her to stop this nonsense right now.

"Ano…" she started to speak and he first tried to make it appear as if he did not hear her amidst the group surrounding him, asking for autographs and interviews. "Ano…you are Mr. Li Syaoran, aren't you?" The people around her laughed at her attempt to cove r up her obvious knowledge of him.

"Yes?" He addressed her coolly, eyeing her with as much disdain as he would have for her colleagues.

"Well, I am Chan Ying Fa, a news writer for _Newspeak,_ I'm sure you have heard of it?"

Of course he already knew about her line of work, especially this bit about working for some no-name tabloid, but he did not expect that it would be that paper—the one with the most annoying and disturbing angle about him.

The paper accused him of using Ming Leah, and the other women before him, as a cover-up for his homosexuality.

If it wasn't so low, he would have sued the paper.

Only, that would have fueled the scandal more.

And he can't afford to have that, not with so much at stake.

That being settled, he turned his eyes on her, seeing her in a new light.

_W…wait a moment,_ Syaoran thought, his eyes narrowing. _Did she say Chan Ying Fa?_

Oh, my God. That was the name plastered on the column where his alleged homosexuality first appeared.

And how he hated the writer then for her accusations—the writer, who turned out to be his near-betrothed.

Truly, it was too much for him.

How dare this woman speculate such things about him?

"Ah, yes…Miss Chan, charming that we meet here. I believe we have a score to settle, madam," he said softly as he eyed her with disdain.

-0-0-

_What the hell is he talking about? We never even met before._

Sakura looked confused for a moment, until he spoke again.

"I believe a column of yours has tainted my reputation—not that it needs further tarnishing right now, but thank you for your kind cooperation in doing so."

"What?" She snapped almost waspishly, then she remembered her place and shut up. She was about to utter a snappy retort about not having written anything derogatory about him when she…

…well, she remembered of doing exactly as he had accused her, and Sakura had the grace to turn a bright shade of red.

"Oh, that…uh," she laughed nervously as she recalled the things she had written on that particularly nasty and awful column of hers.

If her memory served her right, it went something like this:

_Scandal after scandal has risen in this quaint little place of ours. And guess who lies at the heart of it all? Yep, you got it, folks, it's our own Mr. Wonder Boy, the clever businessman who has toppled rival empires to nothingness and brought home the bacon, so to speak—Mr. L. S. (Do you need a further clue in that?), of the L. Corporation._

_Of late, Mr. L. S.'s name is being connected to that of the daughter of his business associate Mr. M. Z., Ms. M. L. Yes, girls, you can stop whining, it seems to be the case that these two have got it on._

_Unless what we hear about him is true…and we hear tales of Mr. L. S.'s alleged effeminacy, and how his past conquests had been a mere cover up of our hero's…sexual abnormality._

Or something like that. Truth was, she was too ashamed of what she had written (though Harold praised her for her courage for writing such accusation and the brevity of the piece, she felt so guilty for doing so, for she had only written the piece to earn quick cash for the rent) that she chose to forget about the character assassination that took place within her piece.

"Yes, that," he said wryly, looking amused and at the same time, annoyed. Oh, God, what ever possessed her to insinuate that this man was _gay_? Looking at him now, she must have lost her damn mind to have done so.

"Well, if you have granted us any interviews at all, Mr. Li, we wouldn't have turned to such speculations about…about you," she finished somewhat lamely.

"I don't think I owe you anything at all. I don't usually give a damn on what you say about me, as long as I know it isn't true."

"Isn't it?"

"Are you trying to emasculate me, lady?" He asked in a soft, dangerous voice that she inwardly gulped.

"Of course not—I'm only trying to tell you that an interview is advantageous to your position. So, how about it?"

"An interview?" He asked, contemplating the question softly. "As in now, Miss Chan?"

"Yes, when could it be better?"

"Well, as you can see, we are in the middle of a flight and we shouldn't really be invading each other's private sphere—ah, but you journalists don't usually have respect for anybody's privacy, do you?"

"I'll let that slide and we'll call it even, Mr. Li," she said determinedly and she smiled. "Now how about that interview?"

"You never give up, do you, woman? Very well, I will allow you to ask me five questions. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Fair enough. How about we do it elsewhere?"

"Nope. We do it here."

"If you insist—here goes," She asked the man beside Li Syaoran to switch places with her, flipped on her recorder and fired away.

"So, is it true that you have been dating Ming Leah?"

"No. I never dated her. I only took her home once as a courtesy to her father."

"Oh, so Ming Leah is not your mysterious fiancée, then. Well, I won't waste a question on that. Question number two, Mr. Li, is it true that you are engaged to a business associate's daughter?"

"I am nearly betrothed, that much is true, but we are still finalizing matters, and in order to protect her privacy from privy eyes, I choose to withhold any other information from you."

-0-0-

_So she knows nothing of our arrangement, _Syaoran confirmed silently as he answered her question. It was ironic that he was protecting _her_ from her own colleagues, who, he supposed, did not have the slightest inkling as to who she really was.

Oh, well, he thought as he settled down uncomfortably, aware of the prying eyes watching them with bated breath. He took a sip from his water glass before they went on, sure he could handle this girl's questions.

"Question three, are you really…well, aren't you homosexual or bisexual or anything like that? No instances when the same sex attracts you?"

Okay, that was too straightforward, even for him, and he spat the water he was drinking.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry. I did not mean to surprise you like that."

"Surprise isn't…really…the word," he panted as he straightened up. "I think we settled that one already. I assure you, I am every bit of a man as I can be, and if my words are not enough, I can demonstrate my masculinity to you."

But instead of unnerving her with his suggestive words, Sakura merely smiled cheekily at him, as if she already knew his answer _and_ reaction.

"Oh, Harold won't like this—the idea of you being gay really titillated him, he congratulated me for that 'fantastic' theory I wrote in my column. He even assured me it could very well be true. Oh, well, it can't be helped," she smiled once more before she continued asking him.

"Okay, question number four, what are you doing here on this plane, and in an economy-class cabin one at that?"

He froze at that question, and Sakura looked at him inquisitively.

_So much for being prepared to answer her questions._

-0-0-

Sakura saw that Li Syaoran was squirming rather uncomfortably at that question, which automatically raised her suspicions once more.

"Well, as to that…I'm here on private business, something I chose to do so in quiet, which, unfortunately, I cannot divulge to you. Besides, it must all be hushed up, so can we keep this one off the record, where this interview took place?"

"I'm afraid it's part of the scoop, Mr. Li. Anyway, final question—well, this is pretty straightforward. Mr. Li—are you having a relationship with anyone at the present?"

Well, it was pretty anticlimactic, and she was sure he felt the same.

"No…no, you can't say I am. No nothing at the moment."

"That's our interview finished, then," she said. "Now, a shot! Can we have it, Mr. Li? Look over the window, please."

"What?" Taken by surprise, he complied. Before he knew it, she was taking snapshots of him all over. Then, once done, she bowed at him and returned to her seat. That's that.

Sakura, meanwhile, her suspicions having been raised, began devising her escape.

-0-0-

Syaoran finally got some peace a short while thereafter, and he slept soundly on his seat, albeit uncomfortable at the snug size of the chair. When he woke up, the plane was already descending towards the busy Tokyo suburbs.

Getting up, he stole a glance at Sakura Kinomoto. She seemed to be sleeping soundly beneath massive blankets. Once the plane came to a halt, he stood up and approached her, ready to tap her awake.

Only she wasn't there.

The mass of blankets were all they appeared to be—blankets, muddled as to make it appear as if there was someone beneath them. But the seat was empty except for them, and he knew at once that Sakura Kinomoto had escaped him—yet again.

_It looks like she's proving to be one tough opponent,_ he thought gloomily as he alighted from the plane, heading towards the baggage section where he hopes to bump to her.

-0-0-

But Sakura was several steps ahead of him. She had alighted from the plane while Li Syaoran was inspecting her seat, and she rushed towards the baggage section and hailed a taxi immediately, taking her to the very heart of Tokyo.

She knew she had to be on the move, lest her father found her whereabouts.

It was a big gamble she took, heading straight to their territory, but Sakura somehow hoped that she will be able to mislead them and by the time they found out, she'd be long gone from the country.

Yet it seems she'd be experiencing difficulties. She hadn't counted on her father using his associates to track her down. And she knew that Li Syaoran was far from dim-witted. She had to act fast and quickly if she was to outsmart him.

When he went to check the blankets, as if to awaken her, she knew he was on her trail.

And she had to get away from him, by all means.

She had to assume a new identity soon.

TBC


	5. Chapter 4: Stalemate

Catch Me If You Can

Witch-mistress-animaru

A/N: God, I think my plans for this story suck, so I'm rethinking new plots.

(Sings: Oh…come on, try to catch me, oh catch me if you can…)

4: Stalemate

Kinomoto Sakura was proving to be a tough adversary. Syaoran thought that, by now, he would have already found her. Tokyo, after all, was just a tiny city to scour. Yet, a week has passed after the airport incident, and still he found no trace of his soon-to-be-betrothed. It was as if she vanished to thin air.

_So, okay,_ he admitted,_ I underestimated her. Big time. _Now what?

Despite the difficult cat-and-mouse game they were playing, however, Syaoran was very certain he was looking at the right place. Journalists are most wanted in Tokyo, the center of commerce in Japan. At least, if he estimated correctly and she was looking for a job at a respectable paper, she'd be staying on. But when he thinks about how she stooped to the level of Newspeak (damn it) in Hong Kong, he couldn't be too sure.

Then it hit him—the pictures she took of him. Surely she did not do the whole journalist (read: bloodhound) drill in the plane only to distract him. It must have been done on purpose.

However, it'd be too much to hope that she'd use them for her portfolio while applying for a job. Now that she knows that someone is on her trail, she'd take extra care in disguising herself.

If he was not mistaken, she'd use those photos as Chan Ying Fa of Newspeak, since it was the identity she used. She would never expose her current identity if she assumed that she was under surveillance.

Yes, his best bet was Newspeak. With that in mind, he took his phone out and dialed a number.

"Eriol," he greeted his man of affairs immediately after he picked up.

"So how are things going in there? It's sort of chaotic around here anyway; you better get back soon. I haven't heard yet from the Kinomotos, so I'm assuming you haven't found her yet."

"Unfortunately, you are correct," loathe he was to admit defeat, but he really needed Eriol's help.

"So, why did you call?"

"I need you to keep a close eye on Newspeak."

"News…what? That lousy excuse for a newspaper? Why on earth—?"

"I can't explain it much, but if it runs another story on me, tell me immediately."

"What? This is hardly the time to protect your image, Syaoran. You should have done it a long time ago, you know, if you didn't want it to harp on you…unless you _really_ are homosexual?"

"Shut up, that's not the point."

"Brr…this is _not_ an obscene phone call, is it? Are you officially 'out,' bro?"

"You're annoying, as always. Anyway, you need to alert me ASAP if they do run a story about me, plus with my pictures. Then, while you're at it, please contact the editor of that…_paper_ and ask him the whereabouts of the writer of whatever story they run about me."

"My, my, getting nasty, aren't we?"

"No, just desperate. You can pretend to be a huge fan, you know, who'd like to accost the writer or something. Just don't make it sound threatening. We don't want to have an enemy newspaper—no matter how trashy—anymore than necessary."

"When you say desperate, you mean—?"

"Yes, my soon-to-be-fiancée was working for Newspeak before she left."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Now get to work." Before Eriol could respond, Syaoran ended the call.

---

It should have arrived by now.

_Don't panic,_ Sakura thought to herself as she paced inside her newly acquired, albeit cramped quarters.

It's not as if she had reason to panic. Well, for one, she had barely enough money to cover the rent (one month deposit, one month advance). The rest of her savings went to two weeks' worth of food and necessities and, of course, she had some left for transportation. She can't shut herself inside this room any longer without going crazy.

Yeah, right, she mustn't panic. With the way things are going, she'd be broke by the end of the week, and where would she be then? She sure as hell won't come crawling back to her family, so she'd just have to compensate.

Desperate as she was, she sent Harold the pictures along with an article she had drafted hazily when she arrived, hoping that he'd send her some cash for it. She needed all the help she could get this time, and he was her last hope for extra income until she could find a job.

Well, this is Tokyo, after all, brimming with newspapers looking for journalists. She would be able to find a job soon enough.

However, the fact that this _is_ Tokyo poses a problem as well. For one, she couldn't keep her appearance—people were bound to recognize her as the daughter of Japan's richest man. For another, she couldn't use her identity as Chan Ying Fa, meaning she had to start from scratch.

So, not only did she dye her hair (she couldn't afford a wig) with black (it's the most common hair color), she also has nothing to write in the "experience" portion of her resume.

But all things considered, she's glad. It seems that she's lost Li Syaoran's trail, if he was indeed looking for her.

The thing is she isn't really sure if he was running after her, or she was just being paranoid. That thought alone left her feeling like a heel. All that effort, and what did she get? Nothing but a huge mess and an empty wallet.

Great.

But really, she can't afford to pause and contemplate her error in judgment. After all, it was her choice to come to Japan—she simply didn't think that someone would be following her. She shouldn't have been too rash in the plane; she could have used a different name. That way, the experience she gained in Hong Kong wouldn't have gone down the drain.

Oh, well. So much for stupidity. Now, back to her problem (or rather, problems). Money. A job.

That's the thing with a new identity—she's Aizawa Mika this time, a woman with little credentials, no portfolio and practically inexistent job experience. Everything has to start from scratch.

She feels like giving herself a pat on the back. _Good job, Sakura. Imagine if your brother found you now and all you have to show for your year of hard work is this dingy place and two weeks' supplies? He'd laugh to his heart's content and say you'd earn all that in a day in the family corporation. Then he'd drag you back to the mansion and he'd make you face the company's journals until your nose bleeds with all those numbers._

_Harold, you received it, didn't you? Come on, don't fail me now._

Of course, once she had that money, she can breathe freely again. She can go and find work as soon as she receives payment from Harold. She's just had too many failures recently; she can't take another one today.

---

Newspeak is all in agog. The office was in chaos; Harold Wong, its chief editor, was squealing in delight.

"Now, this is the break we've been waiting for! Newspeak will sell like hotcakes with this very vital information in our hands. Work hard, all of you—this issue must be perfect!"

Apparently, Chan Ying Fa, the reporter on vacation, spotted _the_ Li Syaoran in the same flight she was in. Harold was very sure that the sales will be record-breaking.

"Yes, you must be very careful in the treatment of this story; this exclusive interview, topped with the information of where it took place…oh, the intrigue! This is exactly the story we need!"

Harold scanned Ying Fa's message with little interest. "Oh, I wish she'd get back now. I'll promote her to news editorship immediately. Did she leave a contact?"

"Here, she says she needs some dough, and fast. What do you say, Harold?"

"Well, the sales aren't officially in…but then, this is her biggest break thus far. She left her bank account?"

"Yes, apparently."

"Good, transfer a thousand dollars (HK) to her account."

"Eh??? That much?"

"Of course. That's small, considering how big a story this is going to be."

"Goodness, Harold," whined one of the writers. "Is this really a big issue? What if it turns out as a flop?"

"Believe me, it won't. Send a message to Ying Fa, will you? Tell her I'd expect her back in three months. An editorship awaits her."

---

A week later, Sakura was feeling the lowest of low. Sure, Harold sent her more than she expected, with the promise of a job waiting for her in Hong Kong in three months' time. Better pay, probably, but she won't have a chance at it if things don't pick up. Hell, buying a ticket back to Hong Kong was the least of her worries now—she needed a job immediately to keep surviving here in Tokyo. Harold's offer was worthless if she couldn't get back to Hong Kong, and she wasn't even sure if it was safe to do so.

Of course, worse comes to worst, she'd have to swallow what little pride she had left and return to her father. She'd have to face them at some point, but she didn't picture it like this. In her vision, they were going to finally accept her choice and support her and stop trying to mold her to the perfect trophy daughter—but it looks like it won't happen anytime soon.

She was going to starve and die, literally.

"No, I'm not going to give up!" She whispered, holding her resume tightly in her hand. "I'll try and try, because no way in hell would I return to being a caged princess!" She ended dramatically before running off.

_I have to do my best. I made my decision a year back—no way would I rescind on it._

---

"So she still hasn't given up?" Eriol asked over the phone.

"I don't think so," Syaoran said, annoyed. He found out Kinomoto Sakura's whereabouts only three days ago, after an article did appear at Newspeak. Harold Wong was highly uncooperative, and he had to trace the funds transfer to Newspeak to find her whereabouts.

It was apparent that she still did not have a job. Any other girl, he knew, would have given up by now, but this was Kinomoto Sakura, who evaded her powerful family for a full year. "Stubbornness really runs through the whole family's veins," he said gloomily. "I won't be able to go home anytime soon if I just let her set the pace."

"Then go after her."

"But that would alarm her, won't it?"

"Well, this is taking a bit longer than you can afford, and you know you need the merger with the Kinomotos as soon as possible."

"That is true," he replied, still frustrated.

"Then you should just keep her in rain check for a few more days. If things don't pick up, she'll be in trouble anyway. You don't need to reveal yourself and alarm her or anything. Your interference may help."

"Yes, I think it might."

"Of course it will."

_But she won't like it if she found out._

TBC


	6. Chapter 5: Desperation

Catch Me If You Can

Witch-mistress-animaru

A/N: One step at a time. One update at a time. Please, slow me down.

Better yet, slow time down for me.

5: Desperation

The Business Newsletter—better known as the Bizletter—was Sakura's last chance. She was never great shakes at deciphering stock market trends—heck, she sucked at numbers and figures, but she had no choice. She's down to her last few hundred yens; her food stock's stretched thin, and she'd be kicked out of her apartment by the end of the month if she didn't pay the rental fees.

Yeah. _Tell me, Sakura, did you get a master's degree messing up your life? You're so good at it._

She promised she'd stay out of the business papers because, hello, this is Tokyo and hers was a family of business tycoons. The chances that they'd meet are pretty much up higher, unlike when she worked for a semi-sleazy gossip tabloid.

But then, she didn't have any intentions to die dirt-poor and jobless. She had no illusions that she could escape them again if they found her now, in her state. At least, in the future, they won't find her flat broke and dead on her feet. She did _something,_ instead of whining and running back to daddy.

_Ha. I bet you're happy now, dad, bro,_ she thought. She was so damn miserable.

The fact that a dozen other aspiring reporters—some of them fresh graduates based on the snobby, I'm-better-than-you looks on their faces—were in the waiting room with her didn't help her self-esteem at all. They were dressed in their best smart casuals, while she looked so sloppy and pathetic in her oversized sweater (the only clean shirt she had) and semi-baggy black slacks. She'd grown so thin over the scrimping she did the past two weeks that they wouldn't have recognized her as Kinomoto Sakura even if she hadn't dyed her hair black or put on some contacts.

_Brats,_ she thought with disgust as another girl looked at her from head to foot, sizing her up, before turning her attention on somebody else, apparently thinking she wasn't enough competition for this job.

She was sorely tempted to reveal herself then and there just to remove that smug look on the snotty little bitch's face.

_You're so mean, Sakura,_ she thought with a sigh. She wasn't usually so edgy, but then, she'd never been this desperate for a job before.

"Aizawa Mika," the intercom buzzed.

_Maybe I'll try my luck elsewhere, _she thought desperately as she tried to remember the law of supply and demand, the bear's market and the bull's market and all those economic terms she discarded from her memory.

The problem was there wasn't anywhere else to go.

"Aizawa Mika. Last call for Aizawa Mika." The other applicants started to fidget, looking around them to see who Aizawa Mika was. That was when she realized she was being called for her interview.

"That would be me," she croaked, jumping from her seat. Her (actually empty) portfolio slipped from her lap and slid to the floor due to her sudden action. Several of the applicants snickered but she chose to ignore them.

The secretary at the door looked at her pityingly before nodding to her, indicating that she go in.

Her mind went blank, and then it went on cursing, with relentless, nagging thoughts bugging her.

_Crap. Crap. This is crazy oh I shouldn't even have considered it I suck at math what if they pop me a simple arithmetic question like they do at grade school and I'm not able to answer oh no I can't do this why did I ever think I can????_

"Aizawa-san," seated before her was an elderly man. He gestured at the chair in front of him.

She sat down nervously. "Hai, sir."

"It says here that you have no previous experience in business reporting."

"Yes, but I took some units in Economics back in…" _oops. _Aizawa Mika took mass communication in a little-known small town college. She did not have any subject related to Economics. _Sakura Kinomoto _indeed took Economics in college, but she never finished her degree since she ran off—but she was not Aizawa Mika.

"Interesting. It's not written in your resume."

"I…I forgot," she said.

"It's not in your scholastic records either." The man was suddenly stern as he gazed at her.

"I…I…" _Fuck. First question and I'm out of the running._

"Now, you need not be ashamed if you do not have any experience, or _knowledge,_ in Economics and business. However, here at the Business Newsletter, we do _need_ experienced reporters—and experience is apparently what's lacking here."

"W…wait, I do know it!" She said, incensed. "There's the law of supply and demand which dictates market prices, stocks and bonds…there's this bull market and bear market, blue chips…" she ranted on wildly.

"Those are merely the basics," the man said, colder this time. "Even a high school student might give me the same information you just stated."

"Oh."

"Very well," he said briskly. "I'm really sorry, but you're not what we're looking for. I'm sure your talents will be better appreciated _elsewhere._" The man looked pointedly at the door, and she just had no choice but step out of the room.

Outside, she refused to look anyone in the eye, even though she saw the secretary's sympathetic gaze as she stormed out of the waiting room. She imagined the woman who looked at her saying "I thought so" in her head.

_Don't cry, Sakura,_ she commanded harshly as she kept on walking. _I'd forgive anything but tears. You mustn't cry—you haven't cried for years, have you?_

She headed to the nearest public restroom and bawled her eyes out at a cubicle. Then, instead of going home, she went to the nearest mall. She sat in one of the benches outside a boutique and stared dumbly ahead of her.

_Now what? My career's a joke and I'm flat broke. I haven't even a yen to spare for a comforting cone of vanilla ice cream. I don't mean to be pessimistic, but hey, where am I headed, honestly?_

"Tell me, is this pink blazer better, or will the blue one do much better?" A woman's voice asked beside her. She turned, dazed, to see a young woman with shiny black hair and the weirdest violet eyes.

"Are you talking to me?" She asked dumbly.

"Uh, hello, do you see anyone sitting beside you? Yes, I'm talking to you," she said with an aristocratic arch of her eyebrow.

She turned to the two articles of clothing before her and pointed to the blue one.

"I thought so," the woman said smugly. "Thanks for your help. By the way, for someone as badly dressed as you are, you have good taste," she was too drained to even offer a retort to the subtle insult.

"Hey," the woman said when she did not speak again. "You look like you lost a million yen or something. Aren't you going to tell me off for being rude?"

She didn't answer.

"Who's being rude now?" The girl insisted with a resolute "hmph."

"I don't talk to strangers," Sakura replied before turning away, hoping the woman got the message.

Instead, she strode off and pulled her to stand. "Here," she offered her hand. "I'm Daidouji Tomoyo, and you are…?"

"Sa…Aizawa Mika," she replied.

"There, we aren't strangers any longer. So tell me, why the long face, Mika-chan? I can call you Mika-chan, can't I? And you can call me Tomoyo-chan, too."

Daidouji Tomoyo was a nonstop talking machine. In the end Sakura chose to go along with her, thinking she could get a free meal out of the strange girl, too.

"Spill, girl," Tomoyo was saying. "I don't believe women are supposed to be meek and quiet and all that stupid _macho shit _stuff_._ I don't think you do too, so tell me what had you down."

"My career's practically nonexistent at the moment—I just got rejected by Bizletter, and I think that snotty bitch applicant's laughing at me when I left. I'm down to a few hundred yen and by the look of things I'm gonna end up in the streets by the end of the month."

"Wow." Tomoyo's eyes were big as saucers. "That had to suck, somehow. But don't tell me you've given up?"

"I don't want to give up, but…I…it's just, I tried applying to every single publication in Tokyo and I got rejected. I guess this is one time too many."

"No, you haven't applied everywhere," Tomoyo said mysteriously. She didn't want to ask her to elaborate; she only wanted to get back to her apartment.

"How about you?" Sakura asked suddenly, straightening up. She didn't want to bore this virtual stranger with her sob story. "Is it your habit to go on picking up stray kittens and taking care of them?"

"What, are you referring to yourself?" Tomoyo said with a laugh. "No, silly, of course not. And you aren't a stray kitten—a stray tigress in disguise, more like. I just saw you sitting there, looking so sad and all, and I just thought I'd help out."

Sakura's pride cried enough at that point. Was she that pathetic earlier, that she solicited unwanted sympathy from a stranger?

"Oh. So you thought helping some pathetic stranger would cheer her up. Great."

"Hey, now, Mika-chan…we're friends, aren't we?"

She did not answer, standing up instead.

"Thanks for the meal, Daidouji-san. Nice meeting you." She said coolly before turning to leave.

"Wait." The cute girl's voice was replaced by a womanly one. "Before your pride gets the better of you, why don't you get back here? You need help. Why won't you admit it?"

"I won't be treated like a stray!" She replied hotly. "I don't need your damned help!"

"That's your pride talking, Mika-chan," Tomoyo said calmly. "Anyway, don't think this is over." She stood up as well and slapped a piece of paper to Sakura's hand. "That's my calling card. Come to the address there and we'll talk when you're sensible. Nice meeting you. I think we're going to be friends."

_Strange woman,_ she thought. The calling card had her name and an address, nothing more.

_Ah, well._ She left and headed home.

---

Two days later, Sakura had no choice but to swallow what little pride she had left. She found herself standing outside the building indicated in the piece of paper Daidouji Tomoyo gave her.

_Daidouji, Daidouji…where have I heard the name before?_

She took a deep breath and entered the foyer with as much confidence as she could muster.

The entrance hall was huge — and fashionably designed, too (she had a wild guess on who administered the designs). Cream-colored walls inside and marble tiles at her feet, with squashy, comfortable but stylish chairs at the lounge area. A newspaper rack sat at one corner. Magazines — most of which seem to bear the same name, "Trendsetter"— littered the coffee table which served as centerpiece of the lounge.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?" The receptionist asked with a smile.

"Uh…I'm here to see Daidouji Tomoyo," she said, pointing at the calling card at her hand. The woman's eyes widened by a fraction—almost imperceptibly, before she nodded.

"And who should I say it is, Miss…?"

"Say that it's Aizawa Mika," she replied.

"One moment, please."

"She's in a meeting right now, but she says you can go straight to her office and wait for her," the receptionist said after a moment.

"Uh…where is her office, exactly?" She hated huge buildings such as this one because she had this terrible tendency of getting lost and ending up somewhere she shouldn't have been.

"Fifth floor, last door on the left," the woman said cheerfully.

"Thank you. Fifth floor, last door on the left," she mumbled. "I'll remember that."

She went to the elevator and punched in the floor number. She was the only passenger; it didn't help any on her nerves. Her stomach lurched every time she remembered her rudeness the last time.

_Oh lord I wish I hadn't been such a pigheaded idiot last time…_

The elevator halted every floor, and finally, it was the fifth stop. Legs shaking, she walked on, steeling herself for the worst.

She knocked at the last door on the left. A secretary awaited her and said that "Miss Daidouji" would be down shortly. So she sat. And waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally, it seemed like an hour had passed and Sakura declared herself officially pissed off. _Was this her final retribution for my rude behavior? I hate waiting for anyone, much less an uncompassionate weird young woman!_

She was about to ask the secretary to relay a few _unkind_ words to her boss when the door opened and a fuming Tomoyo entered the foyer.

"Seiya beat me to it again! Ugh, I hate that woman! Her and her damn magazine interviewed Mr. Wong last week! Tell me, is this coincidence or not? Four straight months! Four! Is it a mole or what that's passing on information on them?"

"Er…Miss Daidouji…Miss Aizawa is…"

"Omigosh, I absolutely forgot! Mika-chan!" To Sakura's surprise, Tomoyo strode forward and hugged her like an old friend. "I thought you weren't coming," she pouted. "I was so tied up in that meeting, I'm so sorry for making you wait."

Suddenly, Sakura's anger evaporated. The woman looked all cutesy and young with her whining voice that she had to stop being irritated.

"Well…you did tell me to come here. I know we're strangers, but I'm about a day away from absolute starvation so…off with my pride, I have to survive."

Tomoyo merely nodded sympathetically. "I knew you'd be sensible about this."

"So…I won't beat around the bush. You asked me to come here so, if I'm not mistaken, you must have something to offer?"

"Of course. Remember my little game last time?"

"About the blazer?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"What about it?"

"Well, we have this new segment for our magazine, something to talk about what's hot and what's not, the in versus out of fashion. I need someone to write it."

"Uh…sorry, I don't follow you," she said, scratching her head. "If I understand correctly…"

"Oh, sorry. I forgot to mention Trendsetter, didn't I? Well, I'm the chief editor of Trendsetter, Tokyo's hottest fashion magazine by the way, and I'm offering you a job as a fashion writer—of 'Hot vs. Not' — that's the official name of the column. Last month I wrote it, but I'm too busy to takeover permanently, and I need someone whose taste I trust to do it."

"Oh." That explained the magazines at the lounge. "I…I don't know what to say."

"How about, 'I'll do it'? A little gratitude won't be too bad, too."

Honestly, Sakura never dreamed of being a fashion writer. She wanted to write crime stories, serious journalistic pieces. She never thought of lipstick journalism, as it was termed, as a profession.

But then, beggars can't be choosers, can they? Besides, this is a lot of improvement on her work as Chan Ying Fa. From yellow journalism, she jumped to lipstick journalism. Not bad.

"O…Okay, I'll do it," she said finally.

"I knew you would," Tomoyo said, beaming. "Now, we can really be friends! But don't get me wrong, the deadline sticks!"

"Oh, don't I know it," she said with a grin. "By the way, I think we'd be great as friends."

"I told you so."

Sakura knew she wasn't kidding when she said it. However, she felt a twinge of guilt upon remembering that she wasn't being completely honest to her wonderful newfound friend.

She shrugged the nagging feeling off as Tomoyo chatted happily away.

TBC

A/N: What happened to Syaoran? I don't know either. But he can go to hell for this chapter. I'll tell you how he's doing on the next. :)


	7. Chapter 6: Trapped

Catch Me If You Can

Witch-mistress-animaru

A/N: Trying to keep my promise.

6: Trapped

_"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing; _

_Your robes are green and purple - there's a crest upon your head; _

_Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!" _

_Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly, _

_Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by; _

_With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew, _

_Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue - _

_Thinking only of her crested head - poor foolish thing! At last, _

_Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast. _

_He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den, _

_Within his little parlour - but she ne'er came out again!_

- The Spider and the Fly, Mary Howitt

**Two** **months** after she met Daidouji Tomoyo, Sakura was, for once, experiencing a sense of financial security. As Aizawa Mika, resident fashion guru of the ultimate fashionista magazine _Trendsetter_, she has become a new sensation in Tokyo with her segment, _Hot vs. Not_. From a single-page column, it has become a full-blown section of Tokyo's most celebrated diva handbook.

She now handles a team consisting of a fashion consultant and a trainee writer, as well as a pair of fashion-hunters who help her make the verdict for every article of clothing they feature.

While she misses doing crime stories, she found fashion journalism was a much preferable field to the dirt-ridden gossip which belonged to the world of blind items and libelous columns she has left behind—hopefully, for good.

But even better than the financial security, temporal as it may be, she has found herself a true friend. Sakura and Tomoyo got on like peas in a pod, despite the huge difference in their personalities. Tomoyo's calm and composure complements her fiery, compulsive behavior so well.

Like now, when another deadline has to be met.

"Relax, Mika-chan," Tomoyo said calmly as Sakura stormed the office with her incessant pacing. "Your team will pull through, as they always do."

Sakura felt a twinge of guilt upon hearing her false name on her friend's lips. She wished she could confide in her, but she was unsure as to how Tomoyo would take the deception. Ignoring her guilt, she pasted a hesitant smile on her face.

"I know, Tomoyo-chan, but…I'll never really get used to this cycle. It's so stressful," she said with a sigh.

"Oh, don't say that," Tomoyo pouted. "Especially since I have a grand project for you."

"What project?"

"Well…we might be having a special issue next month…"

"And? Come on, Boss-chan, don't keep me in suspense," She said with a soft smile.

"Well, since it is June, _Trendsetter_ will be releasing a Wedding Special—you know, June Brides and all. And Hot vs. Not will play a crucial part in that segment."

"Wow, that's a wonderful idea," Sakura exclaimed, forgetting her earlier anxiety over the approaching deadline as she conceptualized. "The perfect outfit for the June Bride…it just might work…"

"Of course it will! And perfectly too, at that! And, not only that, the issue will be launched in a superb social party, which I'm planning, of course," Tomoyo said. "I will also handle the accompanying articles hands-on, so it's really a huge project from which I expect to draw more readership."

"Oh, Tomoyo-chan, I'm so happy for you," Sakura smiled at her friend.

"It will also feature actual engaged couples…including, well…" Tomoyo paused, blushing.

Sakura's eyes rounded. "Tomoyo-chan…are you?"

"Well, yes, I have been engaged for some time now. Actually, Sakura-chan…I would really like for you to meet my fiancé."

"I…" She faltered, unsure of what to say. "O-of course, why, I would be glad to meet the man you obviously love."

Tomoyo beamed. "Wonderful! You will handle our interviews, won't you?"

"I would be honored." Sakura grinned, hugging her friend, breaking off only when one of her teamworkers arrived to consult her piece.

* * *

**Once** inside her office, Tomoyo picked up her phone and dialed her fiancé's number with trembling hands, a worried frown marring her face.

"Are you sure this is all right?" She asked softly. "I really don't think…"

"It's for the best, anata," the firm male voice on the line reassured her.

"I just don't…I don't like any of this. There's just too much…"

"Just a little longer, and it will pull through."

"I hope so. I like her, you know…she is truly my friend. I do not want to lose a friend."

"But it needs to be done. Thank you for doing this, honey," he said softly. "I know it is too difficult for you."

"As long as you are with me in this…this…grand deception. Oh, how I abhor it. But as you say…it needs to be done. Perhaps."

"I shall see you, then?"

"Yes, oh yes. And you shall meet her soon, too. And you will know why I agreed to this madcap scheme."

"Oh, I hear the boss coming in." A flurry of movement on the other line. "I'll have to update him. Bye, sweetheart. I'll see you later," and he hung up.

"I suppose it's all right," Tomoyo whispered to herself, "if she becomes happy in the end…ne?" She put the phone down and began typing up the ultimate article which would bare the truth on her dearest friend ... and her soon-to-be-announced engagement to the most notorious bachelor in all Japan—Li Syaoran.

* * *

**The** **days** passed in a blur of movement, with the grand launch of the _Trendsetter_ special drawing near. Tomoyo herself had modeled some gowns she had designed, and even the gowns featured in Hot vs. Not. Reluctantly, Sakura had agreed to be one of the models as well, but only for one of the lesser-featured gowns, so as not to draw attention to herself.

This morning, however, she is back to being the chief handler of her segment, as she was to conduct an interview with Tomoyo and her mysterious fiancé.

She was dressed in her finery as Aizawa Mika, her hair a shiny black (newly dyed), her brilliant green eyes hidden behind a snappy pair of sunglasses as she held a small notebook in one hand. She looked every bit the fashion diva, she had to admit.

Tapping her foot on the floor, she waited impatiently for her boss-friend and her fiancé to arrive.

The door of the reception hall opened then, Tomoyo entering. Behind her was a bespectacled man with striking blue eyes and gleaming black-blue hair. His serious countenance gave him an air of undeniable confidence, making his pleasant features even more attractive.

"Good morning," she said, striding forward. "I am Aizawa Mika," the name rolled off her tongue much easier now. There were times when she felt that she was, indeed, Aizawa Mika, a woman who had no past, only prospects for a better future. "I handle the Hot vs. Not segment of _Trendsetter_, but for the special issue I agreed to conduct this interview, Mister…"

"Hiiragizawa. Eriol Hiiragizawa," his voice was a crisp baritone, matching his lean physique. "So you are Tomoyo's dear friend," he said, smiling slightly at her.

At once Sakura saw why Tomoyo liked the man enough to agree to marry him. He was as charming as rogues come. "Yes, yes, I suppose I am," she answered with a laugh. "A pleasure to meet you, Hiiragizawa-san."

"Oh, you must call him Eriol-kun," Tomoyo said with a shake of her head. "We are friends, after all."

"Yes, do call me Eriol-kun," he replied with a wink.

"Well, if you insist," Sakura shrugged, leading the couple to the settee for the photo-op. "Before the interview, a few shots, if you may," She said, gesturing to the cameras.

After the photo-op, she fired away her questions, which the couple answered with a breeze.

_They must really be in love, _she thought with a pang of envy as the interview drew to a close. But then, Tomoyo won't settle for anything else, she knew.

_And she deserves nothing less,_ she thought fiercely, thinking of her friend's innate kindness.

"That's a wrap," she said, snapping her notebook shut. "You handled it wonderfully, you both," she said as she shook hands with Eriol. Their gazes locked, and for a moment, she thought she saw sadness in them—or was it guilt? But then the moment passed, and he was smiling warmly again that she decided she was imagining things.

Tomoyo saw Eriol to the door, then turned to her friend, a light of distress plaguing her features.

"Oh, Mika-chan, there is terrible news," she said, wringing her hands. "Our top model could not make it."

"Nakuru-san? But, what happened?"

"I don't know. What are we to do? We are wrapping the shoot today—we cannot afford another delay if we are to release this issue on time."

"But, what can be done? There must be a model to spare…"

"All of them are wrapped up in shoots now," Tomoyo said, then paused, exclaiming—"I know!"

"What do you know?"

"You!"

"W-what do you mean?" Sakura asked, eyes widening.

"You take Nakuru's place as our top model! After all, you have the same features, and all…"

"This is madness, Tomoyo-chan…"

"No, it makes perfect sense! Please, Mika-chan? So we could continue our grand plans…" Tomoyo made puppy-dog eyes

* * *

**In the end, **Sakura had no choice but agree (to her chagrin). She only hoped no one would recognize her as Kinomoto Sakura once the issue was released everywhere. She had a nagging feeling that her time masquerading as Aizawa Mika is soon at an end when the June Brides issue of Trendsetter was released, but she refused to worry about that just yet. She was, after all, having the time of her life preparing the grand launch and the special issue's most wanted articles in the Hot vs. Not segment.

With the shooting quickly done soon thereafter, they only had to refine the articles. Having worked hard on Eriol's and Tomoyo's interviews, she knew that the launch, which would be in a weeks' time, would be a grand success.

She still had no idea as to what article Tomoyo plans for the cover, but she supposed it is no business of hers. After all, the wedding edition of Hot vs. Not is all her concern, and that was finished a lifetime ago. She browsed her email—Aizawa Mika's email to be exact, finding nothing new in her inbox but a few updates from her online subscriptions.

But still, she wonders about the cover story of June Brides. What could be good enough for such a grand issue? Surely Tomoyo's engagement qualifies for it? But why has Tomoyo lined it up for a different page?

She sighed, signing out of her email. The homescreen of her freemail provider appeared, giving her pause as she saw her former editor, Harold Wong, gracing one of the pictures in the slide show. Apparently, the tabloid _Newspeak_ was once again being sued for libel, and Harold was defending it again.

Remembering her former alias, curiosity got the better of her and she opened Chan Ying Fa's email, against her better judgment.

She saw a few letters from Harold, aside from a load of spam stuff which pretty much buried everything else. She'd had no contact with Harold since she took her new job, and now didn't seem a good time to call, with the libel suit and all.

Then, something caught her attention. Below numerous spam letters, there was an untitled e-mail from an undisclosed recipient. Curious, she opened the letter.

_Miss Chan,_

_How are you? You disappeared most abruptly in the airport. I had searched for you, hoping to clarify some of the questions you have asked me. How about it, then? I am looking for a writer for whom to expose an exclusive story about…well, someone I know. I had hoped it would be on the most notorious tabloid to grace Asia._

_Are you still in the country? If you are, I would be at several social occasions here in Japan throughout the month. I leave here my social schedule, should you wish to come. _

_I shall be waiting. Or are you still in hiding from me? _

_Yrs,_

_Li Xiao Lang_

Her heartbeat quickened as she remembered their ill-fated meeting and equally-disastrous interview in the plane to Tokyo. She had quite forgotten it, except on the occasion when his handsome visage kept on coming back to haunt her. Blast it, why does he have to be so gorgeous? She wished he was just an ugly old lout, so she may forget their encounter.

She had been too paranoid at the time, but in retrospect, it may have been just that—coincidence. So far, their paths have not crossed in Tokyo, and the letter was dated several weeks back, so he can't possibly be keeping tabs on her like she feared.

An exclusive story? But she was through that phase. She is financially secure now, not hanging on the threads of decent living. Still, she scanned his social schedule, noting that most of the events listed have come to pass.

Except one. The grand launch of _Trendsetter._

_What the hell? Why is he invited to that event? Is he getting married? Is this the giant scoop Tomoyo tells me?_

One thing's for sure. She cannot show up as Aizawa Mika without blowing her cover. She may have dyed her hair black, and she might be able to blend in without her hair color making her stand out, but she was sure she'd be recognized.

But she didn't want to miss this for the world, after having worked so hard on the project.

Besides, if she'd be honest with herself…

…she wants to know why Li Syaoran was attending the launch of a bridal magazine edition of a fashion guru magazine.

Oh, bother it. She just wants to see him again. Rather like witnessing an accident, when you can't not take another look.

With that in mind, she clicked on "Reply," sending a short missive of assent and agreement to meet with him.

_To hell with it. I'll meet you anytime, Mr. Hot Shot,_ she fumed, noting the taunting challenge of his last line.

_I'll show you. I'll make a fool of you yet, Li Xiao Lang,_ she vowed as she wrote the note of reply.

And lastly, she began to write a letter to a person essential to her plans as Chan Ying Fa.

_Dearest Harold, it's been ages. How are you doing..._

* * *

**"It's done," **Eriol Hiiragizawa said calmly as he entered the office of his boss and best friend, Li Syaoran. "Now all we do is wait."

"Of course," Syaoran countered smoothly with a sly smile. He has just finished reading an email from Chan Ying Fa, aka Kinomoto Sakura, his future bride. He could read the underlying rage at his taunting challenge. He smirked, knowing she would soon be walking to a trap.

"Tomoyo feels immensely guilty, but she says that Miss Sakura is doing just fine now." Eriol adjusted his glasses. "She is a pleasant young woman, Syaoran. Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, I am sure," he replied grimly. "Nothing will deter me from my plans. She is my almost-betrothed, and you know that."

"Speaking of which, what of the Kinomotos?"

"Oh, I have sent a messenger around, informing them of the basics, and inviting them to the betrothal party." Syaoran laughed. "And to think she has no idea she has been planning her own entrapment, after all."

Eriol sighed. He didn't like it in the least, but what was he to do? It was all he could do as Syaoran's right-hand man.

Yet he could sense trouble, trouble which might prove fatal to his best friend. He could only hope he was wrong.

TBC


End file.
